Dracula of the Apes 3

by G. Wells Taylor

  After showing her the ivy strewn shelter, he’d made all manner of guttural noises and chattering sounds interspersed with broad actions of his hands and body, that she guessed to be a pantomime he was using to underline his meaning.

  She easily understood that he needed to rest, but that he would bring her food first, and without another sound he had leapt off the branch to catch a hanging vine and swing away into the jungle.

  Virginia was startled when he reappeared a short time later, squatting on the broad branch with an armful of exotic fruits and berries that he laid out on the bark before him.

  He kept his distance as she partook of this meal and as she ate, she studied her savior.

  Indeed, crouched there upon the branch he had reminded her of the apes that Van Resen talked about, and which Virginia had seen at the London Zoo.

  He had made a quiet panting noise then, while nodding—almost as if he could read her thoughts.

  Virginia gestured with a berry in her hand.

  But the wild man had shaken his head and from his deep chest came a low barking noise.

  Virginia smiled politely in return and ate another berry but found it bitter. Her protector seemed to sense this too, for his expression had changed abruptly.

  Panting and smiling, he rose onto his haunches and snatched a handful of leaves from overhead after which he moved to where a depression on the mossy branch glimmered full of water, and over this he knelt to use the leaves he carried like a sponge.

  Then he held this out, and hooted encouragingly until Virginia had crawled forward and opened her mouth to the sweet water that he poured from this curious pitcher of leaves.

  After that, he had left her to get his rest, and watching him go, she saw the wild man leaping and swinging through neighboring trees before she lost sight of him.

  Several times while he was away and she’d dozed, she contemplated the grave side discussion between the castaways, and wondered if her rescuer was the product of the unnatural science that Dr. Van Resen had boasted about.

  She had dismissed the thought time and again, for though the wild man was heavily muscled, and capable of incredible feats of strength, he was still obviously very human, if a man of superior physique and quality. His proportions were “heroic” where Van Resen’s ruminations would have suggested a beast-like product from such an experiment—something perhaps, similar to the hideous creature that had kidnapped her.

  The wild man did have slightly pointed ears and rather long canine teeth that gleamed behind his full red lips as he spoke his animal-language; and his eyes had a tendency to color crimson—flashing as a cat’s did with glossy light if the dappled rays of the sun intersected them.

  And he moved like an ape at times though that was by no means a fair appraisal for he oscillated frequently between that and a tall, lordly posture. Whenever he stood at his full height, and looked at her with his great head canted to the side and dark mane flowing past his naked shoulders, his impressive stature suggested “divinity.”

  He was more “otherworldly” than of the natural world. Or was he something else? Van Resen had said that in prehistoric times people once lived in the savage wilderness. Did her savior come from some lost tribe of superior men?

  There was nothing intellectually dull or unaware in his sometimes breathtaking gaze which fairly blazed with inner passion and any “bestial” aspect she saw in his eyes had a more comfortable place in Lilly’s romance novels than in a book of zoological study.

  CHAPTER 20 – Jungle Bower

  Thus did Virginia spend the hours in contemplation while the wild man was away, and he did not return until late afternoon when he leapt from the branches overhead with gifts for her.

  She was quick to try the berries and fruit, though the nuts were too hard for her to chew; and it was all she could do to restrain a scream when she opened a large wrapping of leaves to find a wad of great fat grubs inside.

  She thanked her provider, but feigned a full stomach as she politely set the sticky larva aside.

  The wild man watched her where he squatted on the branch at the opening to her little shelter, and tipped his head from side to side.

  He made a barking sound and tapped his left breast, nodding as his thick hair fell over his brow.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” Virginia said, smiling and nodding in return.

  Gazda watched the female, nodding and mimicking her smile. He was glad to see her eat the foods he’d brought, since he had not been certain of her diet. If she was a night ape like him, then she might well have craved warm blood. It would be no trouble getting such a thing for her, if that was her desire.

  He would learn more in time, and so he settled down to study her. Gazda was torn, knowing that Lilly had not been well when he saw her last, and he very much wanted to know that she had recovered from his regrettable release of passion.

  At the thought, he looked away in shame, but a cooing sound from this female brought his eye around. She was lovely—much like Lilly—and much of her was mysterious, and hidden behind her coverings that left only her face, hands and feet exposed. She continued to try and communicate and as her fluting voice fell upon his ears, the night ape was struck with the way it sounded.

  First, the words came as chatter or birdsong or even like the music he had heard at the tree-nest, but as she continued, he began to recognize the shapes of the sounds in his mind.

  Familiar shapes that he found jarring, for he had no true memory of what they were.

  The recognition came with a certain sense of pride at first, and stimulated his curiosity, but as she continued to speak, he began to feel unsettled as the words formed larger pictures.

  There were things he knew—trees, the great blue water and animals—but other images appeared that terrified him for he could not understand what they were.

  Structures, forms and tools he saw, and like in his dreams there were other night apes and odd creatures, and great stone caves on cliffs. There were feelings also, about these things he did not understand. He felt sadness, and joy, loneliness and an ache in his heart that was like hunger but not for food.

  More emotion came to Gazda that reminded him of his lair, the alien objects there, and the memory of the strange dark trees. Blue lights had flickered among the bloated tree trunks. The black fog had drifted out and crossed to where he had beckoned to Lilly—it had clung to her naked legs as he drew her garments aside.

  Barking a warning then, Gazda looked to either side of the branch, peering down through the leaves. Was there a shadow far below? Had the ground grown darker behind the leaves?

  If the fog had returned was it here for this female and for Gazda?

  He remembered Lilly’s white breasts, and her long soft neck. He thought of his blood spurting into her mouth, and below him—yes—there! He recognized the first dark tendril of black mist creeping up out of the ground and feeling along the very tree trunk on which he perched with this female!

  Gazda growled and snapped his fangs at the murk, and the brown-haired female cried out, crawling into her shelter where she turned back to him with both hands pressed against her mouth.

  He had frightened her and realizing this, the night ape panted hoarsely holding both hands out before him with palms down, the way he had learned from Harkon, and he lowered them slowly.

  The woman was silent watching this, and as her breathing slowed, she reached out to copy the gesture.

  Gazda hooted and shook his head. A glance below had shown him that the black fog was gone, if it had ever been there at all.

  Smiling as the female smiled, the night ape rolled onto his knees. He drew himself upright and set both large hands upon his muscular breast saying: “Gazda.”

  The female grinned, creeping forward to sit in the shelter opening.

  She pointed at him saying, “Gazda?”

  The night ape panted with mouth wide, and shaking his head up and down, he repeated: “Gazda.”

  Virgin
ia could see that her wild man was trying to communicate, and she repeated what she assumed was his name. This he approved of whole-heartedly, smiling broadly and slapping the bark on the branch before him.

  Then he went quiet, settling back on his haunches to watch her expectantly, the unspoken question obvious.

  “Virginia,” she answered, with her right hand pressed over her heart. She was relieved that he had calmed down after his initial outburst. He had seen something in the jungle below them, and she shuddered to think what might have upset this wild man so.

  Gazda’s eyes rolled up and his slanted eyebrows rose. He grunted something in his own language, tapping his closed mouth like he was puzzling over how he might say this.

  “Virginia,” she repeated, patting her chest.

  Gazda nodded, pointing at her before he said: “Vidge, Vidga—Ah—Ver-jin!”

  Virginia blushed and clapped her hands, pleased with the fellow’s intellect though she could tell his rough history had not prepared him for the convolutions of her name.

  “Ginny!” she said, smiling and tapping her chest again. “Friends call me ‘Ginny.’ Ginny.”

  The wild man opened his mouth to pant happily as he leaned forward and reached out to touch her left shoulder.

  “Ginny,” he said, his eyes looking deeply into hers. “Ginny.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Gazda,” Virginia said, cheekily grabbing his steely hand and shaking it. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Pleeze-choo-mee-too,” Gazda said, and hooted as he flapped his free hand, eyes widening with humor, as the other pressed her palm. Then a serious look came upon him and he brushed the back of her clasped hand with his knuckles. “Ginny!”

  “But who are you?” Virginia asked, boldly reaching out to lift the medallion from where it dangled between his muscular breasts. He grunted quietly over its taut chain, and a look of concern lowered his brow and pursed his lips.

  She turned the pendant in her fingers. A serpent was etched upon the metal disk, inside the margin was the faint line of its stylized body and a cross—but there was no writing or mark that she could decipher.

  “What is this?” she asked, as the wild man took it back to crouch with it in his hand. Then he made undulating motions with his forearm while hissing repeatedly.

  “A snake?” Virginia blurted and Gazda nodded uncertainly. His eyes grew suddenly intense, flashing crimson in the angled light as they studied hers.

  She trembled beneath this piercing gaze—feeling exposed and exhilarated—for it seemed to her that he could see her deepest thoughts.

  Soon after this exchange, Gazda signaled to her that he was hungry or that he would acquire food for them, and he leapt from the branch to a nearby vine where he swept away without another word.

  Virginia was amazed at how quickly he had picked up some simple phrases, and she began to suspect he might be a castaway from a civilized land who had contracted amnesia through some mental trauma or injury, or had perhaps gone native due to the extremity of these savage lands, and in the process forgot the social niceties that would not aid his survival.

  Whatever the truth, it was clear that he was intelligent but had been long away from civilization.

  He certainly struggled with it. There were moments when it seemed as though some thought would pass through his mind and his countenance would revert to savagery as an animalistic expression twisted his fine features.

  Yet, that could not erase the moments when the nobility of his bearing was apparent, even “regal” shining through, and she soon believed he might have come from an aristocratic line.

  The shadows were growing dark as the sun sank from the sky, its angled rays deflected by the canopy were barely able to illuminate the growing twilight. Virginia felt a chill go through her at the thought of staying a night away from her friends. Would they even believe that she was alive? How could they? Abducted by a beast in a hellish jungle—what other outcome could there be?

  Thought of Lilly and the Quarries filled her with worry, and she decided she had to speak to Gazda.

  She would convince him to return her to the tree house—perhaps he’d even stay to help the castaways. His skills would be of great service, and if he were indeed marooned like the others, then he could share in their rescue if they could ever have such luck.

  Gazda dropped onto the branch with a dead monkey the size of a small child in the crook of his left arm.

  “Ginny,” he said, walking upright toward her, holding the awful creature out.

  She drew back from the thing, and Gazda’s expression became puzzled, before he shook his head and made an eating gesture with his free hand.

  “After you,” Virginia said, feigning disappointment as she gestured to the wild man. “I’ve filled up on fruit, I’m afraid.”

  “Gazda has filled up, too,” the wild man said in English, and then his eyes went round with shock. Clearly, he had surprised himself.

  “Gazda, how?” Virginia asked, but the wild man had reverted to his ape-language, chattering, gesturing and swaying in place as he tried to explain.

  “You spoke in English, Gazda...” she said, but the only thing he could say that she understood was his name and her own. Replaying the exchange in her mind, she decided he must have only mimicked part of what she had said.

  Gazda set the dead monkey aside, squatted and crept closer to Virginia, who moved back into the shelter of her native bower.

  “Gazda,” the wild man repeated with a look of concern as he peered over the edge of the branch, worry clearly written on his face.

  “What is it? What are you afraid of?” she asked.

  The wild man barked and grunted, then rising slightly swung his arms and hooted at something in the jungle below them.

  In the fading light, Virginia could see that the long scar over Gazda’s brow gleamed now, bright red against his white skin. She had been surprised to see it earlier, since it was the only such mark she’d seen on his otherwise perfect body.

  She had already noticed that the blemish changed color with his passions. Fading to a dull red or blazing crimson if he was moved to deep feeling—as it had earlier when they’d first met.

  But Gazda had grown more agitated, peering from their branch at the forest floor. His curiosity drew her in, and she joined him, looking from the heights, and then...

  ...somewhere close by a great beast roared. The bellow of some feline monster tore through the jungle like it was the first day of the world, but it did not take a wild man to hear the ravenous hunger in the challenge.

  Immediately, Virginia’s skin came alive with gooseflesh, and overcome with fear, she wrapped her arms around her chest. It was too much! This was too much!

  Gazda sensed her anxiety, so he crept around her and into the mouth of the shelter where he sat and slid his strong arms around her shoulders in a protective embrace.

  Virginia stiffened, but the heat radiating from his chest calmed her immediately, and then she melted further as his sinewy hands chafed her forearms where they crossed over her lap.

  “Please, Gazda,” she said, rounding her shoulders and making a small effort to lean away from the welcome warmth. “This isn’t right.”

  “Ginny,” he said, his voice raw, but powerful. “Right.”

  “What do you mean?” she said, half turning in his arms.

  “Ginny,” Gazda said, pressing the knuckles of his right hand against her left breast, before he thumped his own chest. “Gazda.”

  “We’ve established that,” she answered.

  “Stabish tat,” Gazda said, and his eyes slid down to her breasts as his hands massaged her shoulders and arms.

  “Please, it isn’t right,” Virginia said, grabbing at his hands, but now his eyes caught hers, and she was unable to look away from the crimson fire that flashed within them.

  “Ginny,” Gazda said again, as he tapped the topmost button on her nightdress with a finger, before he set his hands on her hips, and turned her complet
ely around to face him, her legs now slipping over his muscular thighs.

  “Wait!” Virginia whispered, and reaching up she unbuttoned the nightdress and slid it up over her head. What was she doing? Who was this man? Why could she not stop herself?

  His heart was pounding against her breasts.

  Suddenly she had no desire to resist...

  Had she not resisted enough already? After a life wasted waiting for a man to return—a life spent in service to a fantasy!

  Gazda took the nightdress from her hands while panting and hooting excitedly. He sniffed the material, and pressed it against his lips. Then he grinned at Virginia as he began sliding the garment over his own head and shoulders.

  “Gazda!” Virginia cried, laughing when his head popped through the collar and one strong arm slid into the sleeve and got stuck. There was a ripping sound, and the wild man looked at her guiltily.

  “No, you’ll ruin it!” Virginia said, moving to gently extricate the man’s thick arm as his eyes settled on her silk undergarments.

  He reached out for the lace over her breasts but she pushed his hand away, whispering, “It won’t fit you!”

  The wild man’s expression was quizzical.

  “And it isn’t your color!” she laughed, unfastening the garment.

  Gazda panted thickly, his eyes gleaming with anticipation and excitement as he pushed against her, and she leaned back until she lay there on the thick moss beneath his passionate stare.

  She realized that her nightdress was still draped around his neck like a scarf, and she chuckled pulling it off. Then she fumbled awkwardly with it, nervously folding the garment and setting it by her side as she caught her breath...

  ...as his hands slid under what garments remained.

  What of her promise, and her honor?

  Those things in Texas like the ash tree and the moment of passion beneath it seemed so far away now, lost in time—dead and cold compared to the heated gaze that burned over her in the darkening jungle night.